The English Poets, Volume 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 - English poetry |
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Page 25
... round him , he is , as we said , a man of letters , the friend of Drayton and Sir William Alexander , and the entertainer of Ben Jonson . Drummond is a literary and even learned poet . With Alex- ander , he deliberately preferred to ...
... round him , he is , as we said , a man of letters , the friend of Drayton and Sir William Alexander , and the entertainer of Ben Jonson . Drummond is a literary and even learned poet . With Alex- ander , he deliberately preferred to ...
Page 40
... round What is from ruin free ? The elements which be At variance , as we see , Each th ' other doth confound : The earth and air make war , The fire and water are Still wrestling at debate , All those through cold and heat Through ...
... round What is from ruin free ? The elements which be At variance , as we see , Each th ' other doth confound : The earth and air make war , The fire and water are Still wrestling at debate , All those through cold and heat Through ...
Page 49
... round about To find the evenest channel out . And if thou wilt go with me , Leaving mortal company , In the cool streams shalt thou lie , Free from harm as well as I ; I will give thee for thy food No fish that useth in the mud , But ...
... round about To find the evenest channel out . And if thou wilt go with me , Leaving mortal company , In the cool streams shalt thou lie , Free from harm as well as I ; I will give thee for thy food No fish that useth in the mud , But ...
Page 52
... round about with spies , Never dreaming loose desires , Doting at the altar dies ; Ilion , in a short hour , higher He can build , and once more fire . II . SONG TO BACCHUS . God Lyæus , ever young , Ever renown'd , ever sung ; Stain'd ...
... round about with spies , Never dreaming loose desires , Doting at the altar dies ; Ilion , in a short hour , higher He can build , and once more fire . II . SONG TO BACCHUS . God Lyæus , ever young , Ever renown'd , ever sung ; Stain'd ...
Page 59
... round ; For joy thus our wenches we follow . Wind jolly huntsmen , your neat bugles shrilly , Hounds make a lusty cry ; Spring up , you falconers , partridges freely Then let your brave hawks fly ! Horses amain , Over ridge , over plain ...
... round ; For joy thus our wenches we follow . Wind jolly huntsmen , your neat bugles shrilly , Hounds make a lusty cry ; Spring up , you falconers , partridges freely Then let your brave hawks fly ! Horses amain , Over ridge , over plain ...
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Common terms and phrases
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley crown death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Inner Temple Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise reign rose sacred shade shalt shepherds shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
Popular passages
Page 14 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 337 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Page 218 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 178 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 218 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, poor captives, creep to death.
Page 454 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
Page 311 - And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
Page 357 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
Page 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
Page 20 - And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines, Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit. The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated and deserted lie, As they were not of Nature's family. Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art, My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.